Lies
by SilentG
Summary: She lies. He lies. Sometimes, lies can bring two people closer together. My *actual* post-ep for the SVU epi & web content. B/A, S10 compliant, SVU retcon.
1. SHE LIES

**Author:** SilentG  
**Title:** Lies  
**Fandom:** LO:CI  
**Pairing:** B/A  
**Rating:** T for language & adult concepts  
**Spoilers:** SVU episode "Acceptable Loss"  
**Archive:** Anywhere – no need to ask – just attribute, and let me know if possible  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Summary: **She lies. He lies. Sometimes, lies can bring two people closer together. My *actual* post-ep for the SVU epi & web content. B/A, S10 compliant, SVU retcon.

**A/N 1:** I accidentally got spoiled about the 'Acceptable Loss' SVU episode and web content, so I went ahead and watched them. This is my response. I hope it's not too all-over-the-place; there was a lot of ret-conning to do to fit with my head!canon, LOL.

BTW I'm sorry, this turned into an angstburger when I wasn't looking. It was actually way angstier, but I reined in my inner agoniser and re-wrote. Check my LJ account for the details, the tag is 'fic: Lies'.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER ONE: SHE LIES**

"So does this mean you're breaking up with me?"

Alex giggled, more from nerves than good humour. She'd had her worst shock in years when she arrived by request at 1PP this morning to espy the back of Bobby's head through the Captain's clear glass door, back after 7 weeks undercover. _Why hadn't he let her know he was back?_ "It's not me, it's you. I hope we can still be friends." It was now 20 after eight, and he was still in there, presumably debriefing Hannah although his assignment had not been for Major Case.

"Wow, it's true what they say. Lady cops are hard-assed, cold-hearted bi…"

Alex heard a thump and then a scraping sound, and finally her sister's voice. "Sorry Alex. Some guys, huh?"

"Some girls' husbands." They both laughed, although Alex's was a little forced.

"So he's back, huh? Just boom, back at his desk like nothing happened?" Alex's whole family was getting a bit impatient on her behalf, although she'd not shared openly with them any of her hopes. They just _knew_. Encouraging comments like '_We see how he looks at you'_, became '_So, when you gonna jump his bones?_' which had eventually, months later, devolved into a recriminating chorus of '_You seeing anybody? Is he?_'

"Not exactly… he's still in with Captain Hannah, so…"

Her sister groused, but Alex shut her down. Truth was, she was too distracted to talk any more anyway, especially about _that._ She rang off and tried to focus on the busywork while she waited for her turn with their Captain. Her assignments with Anti-Terrorism had dried up almost a week ago, so her transition back to Major Case was immediate. She looked around at the familiar faces, lit up by an unusually sunny October day.

It was nice to stop lying. And it was nice having Bobby back.

**o.o.o.o.o**

In the end, working Anti-Terrorism had been fine, interesting even. Her stint 'cooperating' with the SVU squad had been less enjoyable, but within normal limits for the force. Nevertheless, she couldn't find it in her to feel bad about lying to Detective Benson. That first day at Special Victims, she'd been thrown off by the Detective's hostility… thought she'd blown her attempts at peace-making by babbling details… liars always elaborated. Having opened up once, she felt she had to keep it up, even though it went against her nature to share herself – even the persona she made up for the assignment – with colleagues.

She had been joking when she told her brother-in-law a couple weeks ago that to back up her lie, he might have to go undercover as her fake boyfriend. But Bobby didn't laugh when she recounted the story to him later that morning.

_Are, does this mean you're seeing someone?_ He asked her testily.

His demeanour and the scowl that accompanied it turned the butterflies in her stomach into writhing knots. She was already on tenterhooks just seeing him, especially so soon… and his attitude sank her spirits.

_Who has the time?_ She replied.

Then later,good mood apparently restored,_ I'll get right on that,_ he said, when she told him he was 800 pages behind on his memoirs.

Nope, the truckload of whoppers she laid on Benson wasn't exactly keeping her up at night. She'd had a few sleepless nights over Bobby's assignment, though.

She never learned where he actually was, but he'd risked sending her texts from a burner phone, her replies sent from its twin glued to her 24 hours a day until the moment she knew he was back.

**o.o.o.o.o**

_You there?_ Most nights for almost seven weeks, the question was the same.

_Yup. About to turn in._ By agreement, she refrained from asking him any questions that answering – or not answering – might have jeopardised his assignment.

_How was your day?_

_Okay, the same,_ she'd say, cautious of giving anything way.

_I miss you,_ she'd revealed one night, softened by a couple of glasses of wine.

A long pause, then, _Me too_, he'd said.

**o.o.o.o.o**

"Glad to be back?" She asked, just to break the silence. They'd caught up briefly after her turn with the Captain, though she found her enthusiasm at his return dampened by her partner's demeanour and her own apprehension. A half hour ago, suffused with an impatience borne of uncertainty, she'd grabbed him by the cuff of his jacket and asked him if he wanted to go for coffee. His pained expression and stumbling reply left her testy and anxious, and she'd been trying to regain her equilibrium ever since.

"Eames, you have no idea," he muttered with a tense smile. _Not Alex._

"Did you get tired of pretending?" she asked puckishly.

Her partner dropped his phone in his coffee.

While Bobby had been undercover, she'd actually had a dream about the Long Island Medium channeling Joe. _He wants you to know he's glad you've started thinking of him as your 'first husband'_, the little blonde pixie said. _And he approves of your choice. Or rather, he's glad you've finally decided. _Even in her dream, Alex rolled her eyes. _He wants you to know that when it comes to giving the man in question a clue, you're gonna need a bigger bat._

Those same words in that blowsy drawl were echoing in her ears as she batted her eyelashes at her partner.

"Uh, Eames, about that…"

Bobby was twitching almost spasmodically, picking at a nonexistent patch of nothing on a bare patch of desk, and turning red. She could almost see the gears turning as he tried to figure out what to say.

She could see it, right there on his face. _Regret_. Not her worst fears realised; much, much worse than that. He remembered. And he rued.

She stared at him, despair blooming in her chest, willing the very air around him to squeeze something out of his mouth.

"I – Eames, I never meant to…"

Suddenly she couldn't stand it any more. God, she was such an idiot, why did she have to do this here? She stood up, hoping she'd be able to hold it together until she could make it to the restroom. "Um excuse me, I think I have… something…"

**o.o.o.o.o**

_Hey._

That last night (she didn't know then it was the last) his text had come much later than usual. She'd been up waiting, couldn't sleep without hearing he was OK.

_Hey back,_ she'd replied. She waited a long time for his answer.

_I'm drunk,_ was his surprising declaration. She'd been worried. He could've had someone leaning over his shoulder, reading. It was one of the scenarios they'd discussed, she was instantly on her guard.

_Did something happen?_

Part of their agreement was no questions, but if someone was monitoring them, it was the most natural response.

_I'm just tired._

_Long day?_

Her phone was silent for so long, she almost picked up her other line to call their Captain. Finally, it buzzed and there was a reply.

_I'm tired of pretending I don't love you._

Thirty-six hours later he was back.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Alex made it to the bathroom keeping her eyes glued to the floor and counting her steps, her neck and jaw muscles so tense from holding in a cry of pure anguish that she felt something go crack in her spine.

_Stupid stupid stupid_. Now she was sitting in one of the stalls, breathing carefully through her mouth to try to stay quiet as what felt like buckets of tears ran in between her fingers and down her arms, soaking her knees, and telling herself that it was her fault anyway, for getting her hopes up and practically propositioning her partner at work.

_It was never gonna happen. You always knew that it was never gonna happen. There's no need to be so upset._

Those words had WORKED BEFORE, why were they failing her now?

_But he said that he loved her._

Ugh, what must he think of her? Making a fool of herself, breaking their unspoken agreement. She cringed to think of him pitying her, feeling embarrassed on her behalf. How would she ever be able to face him? She thought of what she'd said to Benson over drinks. She'd thrown it in for dramatic effect. _It was like we were married._

And that was the closest they were ever gonna get.

"Eames?" Came a quiet voice from the doorway; she hadn't heard him come in.

"Go. Away. Bobby." Her words were barely gurgles, punctuated by horrible, strangled sounds.

"Eames I'm, God I'm sorry. I crossed a line, I…"

"You didn't. Cross. A line. This has. Nothing. To do. With you." The effort it took to bite out the deceitful syllables almost cost her the last thread of her self-control. Only once in thirteen years had she made her partner responsible for her emotional needs, and that was once too many and was not to be repeated. Their future depended on it.

"Stop lying Eames, Christ. Just stop it. Do you still think you have to protect me? Or is it just more convenient for you to not have a real conversation with me."

The barked order – delivered in her partner's reedy tenor in a tone usually reserved for suspects – shocked her so much that she actually did stop, for a few seconds.

_Stop lying._

He didn't try the door. As she sat in stunned silence, not even breathing, she heard a _scrape scrape scrape_ along one of the dividing walls, then his big head appeared over the top.

He looked so worried she almost laughed. Then she remembered why he was so worried, and she started crying again.

_Smokey Bear says, "Only YOU can tell the author what you think of her fic!"_

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** Oh my. I've gotten into the bad habit of posting first chapters of fics that are ¾ finished. I think I might be able to write Chapter 4 tomorrow.


	2. HE LIES

**A/N 1:** When I came up with the bones of this story a couple of months ago, a friend told me about a fic that had a similar bathroom scene… the fic is _Hateful Words_, by foxontherun, and the author has assured me it's OK that I have included a similar element in my fic.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER TWO: HE LIES**

Seven weeks undercover had been almost unbearably difficult.

After all the work he'd been doing to be honest, to connect with and honour his authentic emotions and desires, the strain of tricking and pretending and prevaricating had grated on him like a bad tooth.

At first he'd found himself rushing, trying to force a resolution, just to get out of there as fast as possible. When he'd realised he had to surrender to the process the way that had come so naturally to him in the past, he'd found bearing down upon him a thickening despair.

It was almost funny how in the past, even with Testarossa, it had been a little like a game to him. Seeing how well he could fit in, how he could fool even the worst people into thinking he was one of them. It was a self-destructive tendency, he realised now. It played on his secret fear that he _could have gone either way_. Maybe his secret wish, once upon a time.

He wasn't that man any more, and after making some risky errors early on in this assignment, accepting that he had little control over how long he was going to be there was… hard.

He blamed that for the slip-up on that last day.

Of course back then he hadn't known it was going to be the last.

Sitting in the coffee shop every day, waiting for calls from the connections he was making, crossword puzzles only kept him busy for so long. Once he'd burned through all five Chicago dailies, he allowed himself to think of Alex. About what he could finally admit to himself he wanted, but was still too afraid to claim. He treasured the few minutes of contact he allowed himself to have with her by text every night, made a game of trying to see how long he could last before giving in.

Perhaps a microcosm of his primary problem.

After the mind-blowing revelation with his therapist last June, for a few moments outside with Alex he'd thought, _this is my chance, I can really have it. _But he'd moved too slowly, the moment passed, and what had seemed almost a _fait accompli_ on the sidewalk two summers ago now seemed many generations removed from possible.

Negotiating his own hopes and desires was difficult enough, without having to navigate the constantly-shifting topography of his relationship with Alex.

It was clear that something had changed with his partner, right around the same time things had started to change for him.

Christ, she was driving him literally up the wall. Flirting with everyone, all the time. Going on about dating sites and telling everyone she met to set her up with someone, it seemed.

His partner had gone sex-mad for some reason and he almost couldn't stand it. She was dressing differently, and always always always toying with the pendants that hung low between her breasts. Talking about how she'd gotten a bigger _bed_ for Chrissake!

He couldn't keep himself from touching her, all the time. And somehow everything that came out of his mouth when he dissected it later he realised was him flirting back.

And every now and then she'd look straight at him and say something that made him pretty sure the hints were for him. And what if they were? He didn't want to fuck her. Well… that was a lie, he _desperately_ wanted to fuck her, but not _just_.

He wanted to _have_ her, and the games and flirting and teasing were not only driving him 'round the bend, they were making him feel even lonelier.

And in that coffee shop, after dozens and dozens of hours thinking and wishing and feeling filthy from all the lies, it had just gotten too much, and something had to give. A few minutes after that ill-advised, beer-fuelled, late-night text, he'd gotten a tug on the line he'd been playing out with his targets, and in no time things were on the move.

His case had broken so quickly between the time he'd been called out of the restaurant by his handlers and when he'd found himself back in New York, face to face with his partner, he hadn't had time to process what the consequences of his admission might be.

Clearly he was looking down upon them right now. He'd done the one unforgivable thing for a respectful male officer to do to a female colleague… he'd imposed himself on her in a thoroughly inappropriate, unseemly way. He'd taken advantage of their professional closeness. He'd disrespected her.

And the story about him in Maine, writing a book. It had brought home to him the intricate construct that constituted their relationship, and all the challenges she'd had over the years keeping up the pretence from her end.

It was as though what they had together was a precarious, complex jury-rigged edifice that teetered on many legs… loyalty, commitment, communication, admiration… The spoken, the unspoken, and a slow but steady trickle of untruths, grand and banal. The preponderance of the work maintaining the structure had fallen to his partner, he realised, and with a few fumbling, beer-soaked words, he'd perilously overbalanced the tenuous fortifications.

It always amazed him the lengths she was willing to go for him.

And it always amazed him what an adroit liar she was.

It struck him suddenly how hypocritical it was for him to demand she talk to him when he'd rebuffed her before. And perhaps it was for the best, not having a discussion at all. And she was right… it wasn't about _him_. Maybe for once he shouldn't try to make it so. "I'm sorry, Eames."

"There's no need to ap-pologise. I told you," Bobby's heart hurt as he watched his partner regain iron control over her emotions, "This has nothing to do with you."

"I'm just sorry for snapping at you. What right do I have to be angry? You shouldn't have to talk to me if you don't want to."

She laughed, a natural sound that lifted his spirits a bit. "It's OK, Bobby."

"Do you? Want to talk about it?"

"I do not."

"Because earlier, you…"

"I – don't need to talk. It's not a big deal really, Bobby. It was just – stressful knowing you were in danger, I over-reacted."

_Liar. _Bobby found himself nodding, ready to play the game again. Then agreement turned to disdain.

_Liar._

How old was he, five? How long was he going to allow his partner to shoulder all the responsibility for maintaining the aura of comfortable vagueness that made his life easier?

What if he decided to own his admission and face the consequences? What if things were uncomfortable between them for a while? Lies and omissions had almost torn them apart a few times, could the truth be worse?

"I don't think so, Eames," he finally said. "How's about you try again?"

Her face crumpled and fresh tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. "Don't ask me that, please Bobby," she whispered.

_McGruff says, "Take a mite of your time to leave a review!"_

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** I have a question, specifically for authors. How do you stay fresh in a Fandom? Not asking for advice; I've come up with a very satisfactory strategy for myself based upon my past experience in different Fandoms, but I'm curious to hear yours. PM me if you don't want to say publicly, your answers will be confidential. I may (or may have already) post my own thoughts on LJ.

WORDS: 1325 UPLOADED Saturday, February 16, 2013


	3. THEY LIE

**A/N 1:** I apologise in advance for the cliffie. Next chapter there be smexytimez. Thanks and love to reviewer 'sell', who says such lovely thoughtful things, and who (along with several others) specifically asked for more _Lies_.

Also, I just realised I called the SVU episode "Collateral Damage", instead of the actual title, "Acceptable Loss". I apologise for the confusion.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER THREE: THEY LIE**

After some initial pushback, Alex sensed that her little white lies were doing their job, helping her regain control of both of them.

With luck, they'd both get out of this without another word. And if Bobby ever looked back and recalled what he'd said to her – about it being easier to not have a real conversation – perhaps he wouldn't see the truth in it. Or if he did, he would never mention it.

That was how they rolled.

When his mournful eyes disappeared and she felt the impact of his weight on the floor, she was flooded with relief. But then she heard a scritching on her stall door, the whole contraption shivered, and she heard the words that made her scream inside.

"Alex, let me in."

"No."

The six modular compartments shifted again, this time with more certainty. "I don't think it would take much to bring this down."

She sat for a few moments weighing her options, then sighed and unlatched the door, imbuing the gesture with as much irritation as she could muster.

The man whose eyes she met was neither angry nor worried, but rather determined and oh so soft. "That's better," he said as he managed to shut the stall door behind him despite almost filling the available space in the tiny compartment. He stared down at her and after a few seconds she shook her head impatiently and looked down at her covered knees.

She heard him sigh and then felt the walls creak again as he bent to kneel down in front of her.

"Bobby don't, the floor is…"

"Shhhhh… it's already done." He glanced down at her restless, ungroomed, nervously-chewed hands, finally enclosing them within his own. He looked at her resolutely and not without heat. "Now I'm gonna stop shouting, and you're gonna stop lying, and you're gonna look me in the eye and tell me what's wrong."

She just closed her eyes and shook her head, willing him away. After what felt like an age, he hadn't moved and hadn't spoken, and she tried playing her last card, the righteous, hysterical rage of the chronic Harpy. She peeled her salt-studded lids apart and looked daggers at him, mentally lining up a row of old saws to cut him down. ~ _You don't have the right. _~ _Why do you always have to push? _~ _It's always about you._ ~ _I'm not a suspect, an insect for you to dissect and pin down. _~ _You don't always have to know everything._

He just looked at her, taking in her diatribe. His eyes were soft and mournful but not contrite. His mouth, still full and pink and expressive at his age, had an almost humorous twist that drew her gaze. His hands, still engulfing hers were warm and dry, and they squeezed hers at regular intervals seemingly of their own accord. His presence so close yet barely touching was comforting and at the same time unbearably sensual and intimate. She found herself wanting to reach out and grasp his huge shoulders, pull him in, touch his forehead to hers, his lips to hers, and _make him_ want her the way she wanted him. Make him repudiate his recanted confession.

"You're right Alex," _Alex_… "I don't need to know everything. But it's time you do."

If she could have made him release her hands she would have climbed over his back like a monkey and skittered over the top of the stall. She would have stuck her fingers in her ears and sung the Star Spangled Banner until Bobby left in disgust. She would have covered his soft lips with hers – with her hand, _with her HAND _– to keep him from carving her pain deeper with an explanation.

She could do none of those, so she talked. Babbled, actually, but by now she didn't care.

"I know," she said with a stiff laugh, "You were drunk. You never would have said something like that otherwise…" Her voice was hoarse and her sinuses were completely blocked from crying, but her eyes were dry. She tried to fashion her grimace of heart hurt into a reassuring smile. "No harm, no foul, as the kids like to say. Now can you please go, so that I can…" She trailed off, hoping he'd get the hint.

She didn't need to pee. In fact, she was a little bit parched from all the crying, but her words had done the trick. Her partner was looking concerned, distracted, uncertain. Maybe she'd headed him off…

"Alex, this'll only take a minute." No such luck. She opened her mouth to protest, to plead, to castigate, but he reached up and held his index finger to her lips and she was silent. The feeling of that strong warmth was enticing, electric; she worried that the thrill of it would show through her mask of self-control… When he began absently brushing his finger across her lips she almost moaned. He was staring thoughtfully at her mouth… She wanted to make some wisecrack about not being silenced, but her brain was like mush and her body frozen. She could barely breathe.

"You're right," he said ruefully, "I was drunk." She felt her heart thudding dully as she took in his words. "I would never have said it otherwise." The confirmation was almost an anticlimax after all her anguish. But she hated him, _hated him at that moment _for making her listen. Then he barked a stiff laugh of his own, a sound she recognised as self-deprecating. Her partner shook his head and when he looked at her, the muscles in his jaw were working. "I never would have fucking said it if I hadn't been drunk."

She retreated behind a wall of anger. "Bobby, what's your point?"

He went on as if he hadn't heard her. "Never," he said speculatively, "And why not? Because I'm a fucking coward. And I'm comfortable with the status quo."

She was mumbling something but the sounds she was making made no sense to her. Her world was starting to tilt and she literally had to reach out and touch the cold metal of the bathroom stall to recapture a sliver of equilibrium.

"Maybe you're fine with us dragging each other to and from crime scenes until we're old. And maybe that's the best thing for both of us." He shook his head. "But I can't do that any more and…"

_Pretend_…

The unspoken echo hung in the air.

She stared at him and his face was sad and scared. And _young_; it was the face of a vulnerable little boy. He shrugged. "Your partner's in love with you, Eames. Can you live with that? Or is it a deal-breaker?"

She tried to answer but the words wouldn't come. She felt like she'd been grabbed by the hair and pulled back onto the roller coaster his text had launched her on less than two days ago. Longing warred with disbelief, which wielded a shield built from years of ossifying decorum. The result felt like panic, and Bobby saw it on her face.

He tilted his head to the side and his voice turned pleading. "It wouldn't be so bad, would it? I mean you'd get – used – to it. It didn't get in the way before, but… I couldn't face never telling you. And maybe, one day I mean…" He started babbling. "I know it's a lot to take in, and uh, it's none of my business, but…" he stooped down a bit to catch her eyes, and his were _desperate. _"I don't want to be alone forever, do you? I mean did you ever ask yourself _why_? Why you've never _found anyone_?"

He gently dragged the flats of his nails across her cheek and cupped her jaw with one hand, his long fingers curling in the sweaty hair at her nape, propping his elbow on her knee. His other hand looped gently around her forearm, his thumb articulating distracting circles on her inner wrist.

Her partner was casually invading her personal space unlike ever before, so sensual and strong and gentle and masculine and she was willing her knees not to open, but the muscles on the outsides of her thighs twitched in anticipation of movement and he _felt it_. He felt it through his elbow and vulnerability turned to speculation and hunger and a wisp of certainty.

"Or have you?"

_M. Woodsy L'Owl says, "Give a hoot – reviewez-tout!"_

**A/N 2:** I wish to thank Wikipedia for their invaluable help with the category called: "Public service announcement characters". True story.


	4. HIS TRUTH

**CHAPTER FOUR: HIS TRUTH**

He had to remind himself how his partner disliked being cornered. How careful she was to show decorum at work, and how she hated to be pushed.

When he'd reached out and touched her face and wrist, it had been partly a desire to comfort and partly the inability to resist. At the very moment when he realised how the tight space plus his presumptuous caresses might backfire on him, he saw her body betray her and tell him the truth of how she felt about him.

But Alex's feelings did not dictate her actions. It was one of the things he most admired about her. The fact that now he knew she wanted him, perhaps even loved him back, didn't actually mean anything.

She might still prefer the status quo.

With effort he resisted the urge to pull her to him, show her the depth of his passion for her, touch his lips (_I saw you staring, Alex!_) to hers. Instead he eased the pressure of his fingers on her face, loosened his grip on her wrist, and knelt perfectly still, regarding her.

He watched as, eyes closed, she worked to calm herself and regain control. Admiration swelled in his chest as he saw the look of panic slip away. He felt regret too; was this the end of their conversation so briefly raw and real? Had he been mistaken? Missed both their chances? Should he have pushed his way in before the door closed?

"Alex…"

"No, Bobby." Her rasping denial seemed to confirm his fears, but when her eyes opened he saw yet a trace of softness there. He decided to take a risk. Carefully.

"Alex, your feelings are none of my business…" It felt weird, letting his brain do the talking, when everything in him was screaming for his own feelings to guide his body. "…And I'm not asking you to decide what to _do_…" It was an important lesson to him, patience. With perps, suspects, witnesses, patience was one of his most important tools. But his need to _know_, to _control_, to apply pressure to force an outcome, had been his worst enemy in his personal life. "But please, can't you just tell me how you feel? Please, just tell me the truth about how you feel about me."

He saw her tense to begin a squirm, but she resisted it. He saw her jaw twitch, her head tilt a little as she looked away… classic Alex.

Alex, not _Eames_. What he was seeing was the woman that wriggled under the uniform of the officer.

"Bobby," she murmured, and the harshness of the past few minutes was gone, leaving the husky, unbearably womanly voice that he'd heard only a few times but thought of often. "It's – hard – for me…" She was clearly uncomfortable, but he had to press.

"To say the words, you mean?" He whispered. She nodded, and Bobby felt his heart open up with awe. The knowledge left him instantly hard, burning to give in to the instinct to press his advantage, lean in and push them both beyond the point of no return.

But that would only make her shut down, use her 105 lbs that she wielded like twice that to push him away. If he wanted to have her, he'd need to live in the uncertainty and let her come to him in her own time.

And yet… he couldn't bear to leave it all in her hands. If she was going to choose the status quo for both of them, so be it, but he was going to make sure she could never pretend this had never happened.

"I understand," he said softly. Then, "Well I guess we should get back to it, huh?" He saw the confusion on her face as she realised he was backing off. _Good. Off-balance Alex might tip his way._

He swivelled as if to get up, then turned back to her. "Just one thing," he said. "May I kiss you?" Her mouth opened in shock. "One kiss. If you don't want to, just say so."

He watched barely breathing as a parade of emotions played across his partner's face. Temptation warred with hesitation… He had a moment of surprise when Alex moved first.

She reached out and cupped his cheeks with her little hands so sweetly, a gesture that went straight to his groin. When had he last been touched with such affection and reverence? And by someone he loved? He leaned in a bit then paused, watching her gaze drop from his eyes to his lips. He wanted to let her set the pace, but when she kissed him he couldn't help but reach out to touch her waist, even as her fingers wandered into his short curls.

He had meant for a chaste exchange, but she kissed him open-mouthed, begging reciprocation. She closed her eyes as her lips, so expressive, so controlled, played over his. His eyes were open, putting together the sight and feel of her still-smooth skin with her clean, lightly-perfumed scent.

Parting from her was really almost painful, the only upside seeing his discomfort mirrored in his partner's face.

"When… _If_ you want, I'd like to talk to you about what I – what we – want." He stood up without too much difficulty and kissed her gently on the crown of her head. "Until then, I'm here for you – for _us_ – like always."

He left her there in the stall to compose both herself, and a suitable lie for the curious. She didn't appear for a long while.

**o.o.o.o.o**

For both their sakes, despite the legion of thoughts and emotions competing for his attention, when he regained his desk Bobby made an effort to focus on work.

Captain Hannah had noticed their absence, but upon inquiry Bobby demurred, hinting that it was Eames's story to tell, if she wished, and reassuring their boss that everything was OK.

After the conversation with Hannah, he started on a pile of evidence recently provided by the employer of a vic whose case another team was working on. Hannah had nothing for them, so for now both he and Eames would be expected to provide support on other cases.

It was only when he heard the familiar clip-clop of his partner's shoes that he had to really work to concentrate.

He couldn't risk looking at her, not yet. Just knowing she was in the same room with him brought back intense, thoroughly distracting memories of the kiss they'd shared, and her sweet, husky words. _It's – hard – for me…_

Perhaps the most cryptic confession of love ever to send a man over the moon.

Because yes, that's what it was. And when he finally did look up, to see his partner's unfocused eyes, dreamy look and beestung lips that she was worrying with her teeth, he allowed himself to believe that she wouldn't keep him in suspense indefinitely.

The realisation made him calmer, and he finally found it possible to settle down.

"Do you have the originals of the incorporation papers?"

He glanced up to find his partner looking testily at him, her appearance a bit frazzled after a morning fidgeting and sighing at her desk. The knowledge of which made him distinctly serene.

"Jovo took them a while ago. I think…" He pointed to a buff folio peeking out from beneath a pile of papers on the corner of her desk. "…He – there they are."

"Thanks," she muttered, not sounding at all grateful. Bobby smiled.

Hannah ordered in lunch to keep his troops on point, and much later Bobby felt his partner's eyes on him once again.

"So you, um, what…" Bobby had disciplined himself all day to keep his attention to himself, but he allowed his focus to shift from his work to the pinched face of his partner. She looked as though she was on her last nerve. "Do you, ah… any plans for tonight?"

He looked off over her shoulder, pretending to think for a moment. "Nah, nope, no plans, Eames. You?" _When you want, Alex. When __you__ want._

"No," she said, her voice soft and wistful. Bobby felt a tug of arousal, of empathy, and felt himself caving a little. He schooled his face into a bland expression that belied his impatience, his anticipation… and told his body to stand down. _C'mon, Alex. When you're ready. Please, please be ready._

But she _moued_ and turned back to her work. Bobby copied her with disappointment.

"Wanna get a burger later?" Bobby wasn't sure he'd heard correctly, Eames was still buried deep in her piles of corporate jargon.

Then he saw the deep crease between her eyebrows, her tense lips, and decided it was time to quit teasing. He'd meant to play it cool so as not to spook or smother her… to give her the space to make the next move. He hadn't meant to play hard-to-get.

"Eames?" She just grunted in reply. "Alex?" When she finally looked up, he let his mask of bland supportiveness fall away, and her breath shallowed at the sight of the raw passion that lay beneath. "I would _love_ to," he said.

Remarkably, she looked away and _blushed_, sucking in air through her teeth. "Maybe we could, um, pick it up? And, eat at my place?"

"We absolutely could," he replied, thinking of her big bed.

_Out of PSA ideas. Just pretend that a sanctimonious cartoon character is admonishing you to review. ;-)_

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N:** Sorry, they took a little longer than I thought. Smexytimes next chapter.

WORDS: 1612 UPLOADED Friday, May 3, 2013


	5. HER TRUTH

**A/N 1:** Dear Warren: The "Acceptable Loss" web content almost broke the Fandom. nvm, I fixed it for you. Sincerely, SilentG.

Dear LO:CI Shippers: you can come back now, the coast is clear. Love, SilentG.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER FIVE: HER TRUTH**

"Do we need to talk?"

Alex carefully finished chewing before she answered him. They were on the sofa, sitting close, the remains of their meals on plates on the coffee table. Bobby had loomed restlessly behind her, takeout bags rustling in his hand, as she'd let them into her apartment less than an hour ago. He'd watched her with those warm shark eyes as she divided her cheeseburger and fries, putting half in the fridge. She'd begged his patience as she took a lightning-fast shower, twitched on the sofa trying not to let her mind wander too far while he took his turn.

She looked at him and smirked. "Do you mean, 'do we _need_ to talk', or 'do we need to _talk_'?"

His face betrayed the appealing combination of admiration and surprise she'd seen a few times today. "Either or," he replied, shaking his head. Scrubbed clean and freshly-shaven, she found his lips even more alluring. Time stretched and dilated who knew how far as she allowed her mind to go places with his mouth.

_His mouth_. He'd kissed her earlier, just as she closed the door. She'd been expecting it, trying not to be too girly about it.

It was a magnificent kiss, soft and firm and overwhelming. He stooped down, offering to her exploring hands the curve of his big back, while she stood on tiptoe and almost was lifted.

Feeling his arms properly around her for the first time as a suitor felt like coming home. His size and strength making her feel cherished and welcomed, rather than trapped. As his lips moved over hers tensing and gentling, his earlier confession came to mind and she was overtaken by tenderness and excitement.

After he'd left her in the bathroom at 1PP, she'd struggled to integrate everything… his words, her feelings, the possibilities for their shared future. She'd returned to the bullpen 80% certain what her next move would be, but still not sure she believed it could really happen. And now the kiss they were sharing was like an affirmation that it was real and right.

Then he'd smoothly withdrawn, not a rejection but an intermission, a mere entr'acte while they both settled down.

"Well," she said, shrugging delicately, "I don't think we need to make chit-chat while we're eating if that's what you want to know." She popped the last of her half-burger into her mouth and chewed. "And I don't think we need to work anything out before we sleep together, if that's what you're driving at," she said matter-of-factly.

She patted his back as he choked on his soda.

"Is that what you were driving at?"

"Yup, pretty much," he answered between coughs.

She laughed a beautiful, musical laugh of delight. "See, I thought so."

**o.o.o.o.o**

But they did end up talking, a bit, while their food settled enough for exercise. In a soft voice, almost in her ear, he'd told her about that day outside his doctor's office, the tone and words curling her toes with lust, though they weren't even touching.

Brushing her fingers against his beautiful lips, she'd told him what she'd really been feeling those weeks he'd been away undercover, the _sub_texts as he's called them, the pink skin of his mouth twisting under her nails as he smirked.

Then he'd kissed her again, smoothly, easily. She was ready and not surprised, happy that it happened, happy it wasn't awkward. His diet Coke tongue met the water-cold of her mouth and she admitted him. She wanted to devour him, suck on his lips, play over the sharp corners of his teeth, but she allowed him to set a slow pace of soft movements and gradual exploration.

His hands went instantly and unapologetically to her breasts. It had been a while since she'd been kissed but oh, forever since she'd allowed herself to be touched that way… for so long aloof from anyone who didn't measure up. Something inside her ruptured and she was overwhelmed with arousal, such that she felt herself already trying to drag him off the couch. _Bed, bed, bed_, she chanted into his mouth as she tugged on the sleeves of his t-shirt.

He resisted and she was no match, and soon they were horizontal, her under him, but still at least half-clothed on her sofa. He groaned and bore down with his teeth on the cables of her neck when she squeezed his erection through the sweats he'd donned after his shower. _Alex_, he whispered, his voice beautifully broken. _Please_, she said.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Used to being a bundle of well-hidden nerves, Alex was calm as she straddled his huge, impossibly powerful bare body and filled herself with him. Earlier she'd decided to be completely certain and that decision had brought serenity.

Serenity was not what she saw in her partner… with the rest of him as taut and hard as the part he shared with her, his face was a study in distraught concentration.

"You OK?" She asked, half worried and half flattered.

"Shhh, Eames…" He barely got the words out through clenched teeth, and she smiled at the moniker. "I want to remember every second of this."

**o.o.o.o.o**

Her memory was not that good. When she looked back on their lovemaking just a few hours later, what she recalled was the smell of her almost-unscented soap on his skin; the perfect, beautiful angle and proud acorn of his cock as she bent to wet him with her mouth; the whimper that burst from him when she bent to rub her breasts over his chest, and the look on his face when the pressure and gentle touch of his thumb broke her to pieces atop him.

And most of all, how he'd laughed at her when she jumped out of bed to clean up right after.

He'd _laughed_!

Hadn't gone quiet, been offended, sarcastic, standoffish.

"Sorry," she'd murmured as she re-appeared, "I just had to…"

"I know," he'd replied, a jolly smile on his face, holding his arms out to her. She'd gone to him gladly, practically bounced into his arms, so so grateful.

He _knew_. Just like she did. They knew each other. That was why she wasn't nervous.

Coffee on, the city still completely dark, she pulled out her cell. _Calm_, she thought as she typed, she was calm. A perfect time to get done this tiny task, so they could both relax and enjoy the rest of their week. Enjoy each other. She hit 'send', heard her partner's phone vibrating in his jacket pocket.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Later that day, she'd been out putting gas in the SUV, and caught him looking doe-eyed at her through the windshield.

"What?" She asked when she got back in. She was trying not to grin… already knew the answer.

"Nothing," he said, sliding his cell phone back into his pocket, "Just reading."

**o.o.o.o.o**

The next time he said the words, he held his phone out to her expectantly, a jolly smile on his face. "I think," she murmured, drawing him to her, "I'm ready to talk now."

_Ficcy the Writer says, "Eeeeeh, didn't expect the story to be this long."_

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2:** This was difficult. Mainly because I am practically 100% certain that a time machine, a cryogenic chamber, a purloined letter or two bad cases of amnesia are the only possible way G&E didn't hook up shortly after TBitBKC. It was just there in the cards, sorry Warren Leight & SVU. But if we must maintain the fiction that something kept them apart for another 15 months, then the foregoing is my humble (and admittedly unbelievable) offering.

I wish to thank _sell_, _Carla_, _Alexia_, _IlovetowriteSMP_, _Emily_, _Jules_ & other anons who left much-appreciated feedback for which I couldn't thank them via PM.

WORDS: 1344 UPLOADED Sunday, May 5, 2013


End file.
